In Another Lifetime
by SN1987A - Ritzen
Summary: Learning to let go of ties that bind too tight.
1. and when we look back

_originally posted on March 15, 2012 and completed on January 15, 2013_

* * *

**00. and when we look back**

-x-

"So it has come to this."

"Come to what?"

"You. Me. This moment."

Takasugi paused and stared at Kamui as if the latter had just said, "Let's go breakdancing." He furrowed his brows. "You stole that from somewhere."

Kamui flashed a smile and moved away from the window, crossing the room to join Takasugi on the floor. "I'm bored and you're doing homework," he said, glancing at the open textbook and the sheets of paper on the low table. "How did it come to this?"

"You didn't want to go home," Takasugi pointed out. "And the problem set is due tomorrow."

"No, I mean..." He pressed their shoulders together. "How did we end up like this?"

Takasugi stiffened and gave Kamui a long, sideways look, searching the blue eyes for a hint of mischief but finding hesitation instead. He jerked back and caught Kamui's hand as it reached for his face.

"There's something on your face."

Takasugi darted a glance at the warm hand in his grip and retorted, "There's nothing on my face."

"There's something on your face," Kamui repeated. "Just like there was something on your face back then, except it's different now."

There was a beat, and Takasugi looked away, loosening his grip on Kamui's hand. The sound of rain drumming against the window suddenly filled the room, erratic as the wind came and went. It'd been raining that afternoon too, when they met for the first time outside the gates of Gintama High.

-x-

(TBC)


	2. we are all blind in some ways

**01. we are all blind in some ways**

-x-

Takasugi squinted at the three approaching figures and flexed his left hand to ease the dull pain in his arm. His old injury had been acting up all morning, reacting to the pressure changes in the atmosphere, remembering the instant the bone had snapped more than ten years ago. When the wind shifted again, it brought the smell of rain, and he glanced overhead at the dark storm clouds, his good eye narrowed.

_We know what you want_, read the note he'd found in his shoe box that morning. _Meet us at the gate at noon._

The three uniformed students stopped in front of him and fanned out into an arc. "You're Takasugi Shinsuke?" the one in the middle asked, smacking his gum as he looked Takasugi over, a moonflower tattoo visible on his neck. "Shit, you're smaller than I thought," he muttered. "Is this a thing now? Kamui's fucking short too."

Takasugi returned a hard gaze, recognizing the hostility and the name but unable to place a context. Behind him, the school gate creaked, sharp against the background buzz of lunchtime chatters. Someone in the building shouted something. "You're here to mark your territories," he stated flatly, taking in their aggressive stance and derisive expressions. The note had been a feint, as it usually was. People like them no longer sparked his interest and barely even irritated him. He'd been looking for four years, but nobody had the information he wanted, and it was likely that nobody ever would. He was still looking only because he didn't know what else he could do, how else he should live.

"Oh, we're here to give you what you want, buddy," the one on the right said with a sneer, cracking his knuckles. "That is, after we get what we want!" he added and swung his fist.

Dodging, Takasugi struck the guy's nose with the bottom of his palm and heard a satisfying grunt. He turned to face the other two but noticed the lunge from his left a split second too late. His back hit the wall, and gritting his teeth, he kicked at his opponent's ankle. There was a hiss, and space opened up in front of him. A raindrop landed on his cheek, and he eyed the trio before him, clenching his fist to test the strength in his left arm. Adrenaline masked the pain, but he hated fighting on rainy days. He hated the handicap – a weaker arm and a blind eye. He hated the car accident that took them all. He hated –

"That's enough," a lazy voice called out, and the four of them turned their heads in response.

Takasugi frowned when Ginpachi stepped out of the school gate. In the background, the school bell rang. "You three there," Ginpachi continued, looking at the three students slowly backing away from Takasugi. "That uniform. You from Yato Industrial High? Wanna give your names?"

The student with the moonflower tattoo spat on the ground and nodded to the other two. "Let's go."

Ginpachi harrumphed and, sensing a crowd gathering behind him, turned to wave off the curious students. "Go back to class," he ordered as rain began to fall in earnest. "Nothing to see here. Go, shoo!"

"Shinsuke-sama!" Matako shouted, pushing her way through the dispersing crowd, and glowered at Ginpachi when he raised an arm to block her path.

"Go back to class," Ginpachi repeated in a sharper tone and glanced at Takasugi. "You too," he added. Extending his hand, he gestured toward the gate and waited until Takasugi pushed himself away from the wall. There was a roll of thunder, and Ginpachi sighed when he spotted Principal Hata standing in the entrance way of the classroom building.

"Sakata-san, Takasugi-kun," Hata said as the two climbed the steps to the building. "My office please."

-x-

Takasugi yanked off the towel that Ginpachi had tossed onto his head and looked across the table at Hata. In the corner of the room, Ginpachi opened a cupboard and pulled out a tea box. The sound of boiling water died down, no longer drowning out the rain striking against the window and the clock ticking on the wall.

"Takasugi-kun," Hata began after throwing Ginpachi an irritated look. "You've gotten into too many fights lately. The school board won't stand for that."

"I don't see the school board," Ginpachi remarked and settled into the chair next to Takasugi, but not before placing a cup of jasmine tea in front of his student. Ignoring Takasugi's perplexed expression, he slouched in his seat and rested one ankle on his knee, dangling a lollipop stick from his mouth.

"I represent the school board," Hata said. "And the school board has decided that Takasugi Shinsuke is to be expelled."

The skin around Takasugi's eyes tightened, and Ginpachi exclaimed, "Huh? Wait a sec! What'd he do? Killed a person? Torched a house? Kicked a puppy? He was just fending off some bullies from another school."

"He disrupted classes."

"It was lunch break."

"He's a bad influence on the other students."

"Have you seen his test scores? He could probably do better than Zura if you didn't suspend him so often."

"He's causing trouble for the school."

Ginpachi made an exasperated sound and set his foot on the floor as he shifted in his seat. "Don't give me that crap. I'm talking to the school board first. Until then, you're not expelling him." He glanced at the untouched cup of tea and then his watch. "Excuse me, Principal Hata," he said, rising to his feet. "I have a class to take care of, or else they might all end up expelled for flying paper planes in the classroom. Let's go, Takasugi."

"Sakata-san," Hata called out, and Ginpachi halted his footsteps. "He still has to be suspended for the rest of the week for the fight today."

Ginpachi exchanged a long look with Hata before he turned away and ushered Takasugi out the door. "See you at the board meeting," he said and stepped into the hallway, grumbling as he walked down the corridor with Takasugi. "Damn Otose for retiring, and damn the school district for assigning us this joke of a principal. Listen up, Takasugi," he raised his voice. "Don't go pickin' fights for the rest of this week, y'hear? I don't want Principal Baka latching on to any excuse to expel you."

"Why do you care?"

"Oh, one more thing," Ginpachi continued. "You're on cleaning duty for the rest of the school year, starting next Monday. No complaining." Slowing to a stop as they arrived at the building entrance, he removed the lollipop from his mouth and asked in a softer tone, "You got an umbrella? Need to pick up anything from the classroom?"

Takasugi paused and held Ginpachi's gaze, unable to see through the bored expression. Suddenly aware of the ache that had returned to his left arm, he broke eye contact and raised his hand to indicate that he was fine, not looking back as he changed his shoes and exited the building. The rain was loud, beating against the ground and his umbrella. He frowned when he caught sight of a person standing outside the gate. Purple umbrella, red hair, a bandage across his nose, and a pleasant smile.

"Wow, I didn't have to wait for long. Are you Takasugi Shinsuke?"

Mildly irked, Takasugi responded, "I'll take a rain check."

"I'll hold you to that, because I want to see for myself if you really overpowered the former gang leader of Yato High. The last time Yagan walked around with his tail between his legs was when I beat him and took over the school."

"It was the teacher," Takasugi mumbled.

"What?"

A shout came from the school building, and Takasugi turned, looking up until he saw Kagura leaning out an open classroom window on the third floor.

"Kamui!" she yelled. "You stupid brother! What the hell are you doing here? Are you skipping class? I'm telling on you! Don't you dare cause trouble here, dammit!"

Takasugi shot a glance at the redhead standing next to him and furrowed his brows. He had no idea Kagura had a brother, but then again, they'd never really talked before, despite going a long way back. He could see the resemblance between the siblings now, but there was something fundamentally different about the smiles on their faces: one was genuine, and the other was empty.

"It's getting noisy," Kamui said lightly, his eyes fixed on his sister. His smile brightened, and he waved in acknowledgement.

"Somehow that really pisses me off!" Kagura shouted, and planted a foot on the window sill, yelling over her shoulder when Shinpachi pulled her back. Their argument ceased abruptly when Ginpachi swatted their heads, and they backed away along with the rest of their classmates that had clustered around the windows.

After smacking Matako and Bansai on the back of their heads again to make them return to their seats, Ginpachi slammed the window shut and cast a sidelong glance at Takasugi before turning away, his expression too distant to discern.

"Is that the teacher?" Kamui asked, and when Takasugi didn't respond, he continued with a smile, "Well, it's been interesting. See you around."

Takasugi watched as Kamui headed down the street, his gaze falling on the long braid peeking out from underneath the purple umbrella and the golden words embroidered on the back of the coat. The words jolted a memory, and Takasugi tightened his grip on his umbrella – Kamui was the one who'd caused an upheaval at Yato High after transferring from Harusame High a while back. Taking off in the direction of his apartment, he felt a corner of his mouth tilting upward. Maybe this was something worth pursuing.

-x-

(TBC)


	3. so our speculation is endless

**02. so our speculation is endless**

-x-

"Shinsuke, you should lie down."

"But – "

"You have a high fever. Go lie down. I'm going out to buy some medicine. I'll be right back."

_No_, he wants to say. _Don't –_

Takasugi jerked awake when the phone rang.

Momentarily disoriented, he stared at the phone, remembering it being a gray touch-tone phone and not a black cellphone. He remembered picking it up, half-asleep and feverish, and hearing the news from a solemn voice. He remembered going to the hospital in the rain, dazed and cold, and fighting the nurses who claimed he was too ill to speak to the police. He remembered looking into the indifferent eyes of a monocled officer, furious but helpless, and then waking up in a hospital bed a little too late.

The ringing cut off and Takasugi jolted, as if a hypnotist had snapped her fingers to bring him back to the present. Gritting his teeth, he recalled: That was then, this is now. There could be no more voices on the other side of the telephone to take away people important to him, because unlike four years ago, he had nothing left to be taken from him.

The phone beeped. A new voice message. A beat later, he flipped open the phone only to shut it again, annoyed, when the screen displayed a missed call from Zura. In hindsight, it made sense. Nobody but the wig-head would call him in between classes, but a part of him had perhaps expected a call from an unfamiliar number. Telemarketing, maybe, or a wrong number, because the call he had been waiting for would never come, and no one else with any reason to contact him would have his number.

His gaze went from the clock to the calendar, and he was back in the rain again, face-to-face with the redhead wearing a smile that said absolutely nothing. He wasn't supposed to get into fights for the rest of the week, but he had questions, and they were getting answers. Sitting up on his bed, he lifted a corner of the curtain and peered out the window, closing his eyes when the bright sunlight hit his face, warm against his skin.

Time to pay Yato High a visit.

-x-

Under the glare of the sun, the rundown building of Yato Industrial High appeared lifeless instead of foreboding. The graffiti on the gray, stained walls spoke of threats and pride, yet those words seemed empty, carrying little of the weight in the rumors circulating about the students of Yato High. Frowning, Takasugi looked through the school gates, searching among the scattered groups of students, and turned when he heard a sound from the wall next to him. He paused when he caught sight of a moonflower tattoo on the other person's neck.

"The fuck are you doing here," Yagan said from atop the wall, taken aback and upset.

Mirroring Yagan's antipathy, Takasugi said, "I have no business with you."

"Yeah? Well I do with you," Yagan said and jumped off the wall, landing on his feet with a thud. "We got a fight to finish." Rolling his shoulders, he continued with a dark smile, "Lucky you, it's one-on-one today."

Narrowing his good eye, Takasugi took a step back and ducked when the first blow came at his head. He swept past Yagan, backing up as he tracked and dodged his opponent's punches and kicks. It was pissing him off that he couldn't fight back, and he could tell from Yagan's infuriated expression that it was pissing _him_ off, too.

"Are you a fucking pussy?" Yagan yelled, increasing the pace of his strikes. "No balls to fight me when there's no teacher watching your back, is it?!"

Takasugi clenched his jaw, knowing that he was at the limit of his patience. Where exactly was the line between "picking a fight" and "defending yourself"? What exactly did he have to lose if he were expelled? The only people he would disappoint were dead and had been for years. Nothing would change. He was standing here, doing this, _because_ they were dead. Killed. Murdered. His parents. His guardian. Maybe in another world, the two cars didn't collide on the highway. Maybe in another lifetime, Shoyo-sensei didn't leave the house to buy medicine. But not in this world, not in this lifetime.

Adjusting his footing, Takasugi fisted his hands, ready to block and counter the next attack, but he paused when he noticed Yagan's widened eyes directed at something behind him. Before he could turn around and before Yagan could pull back the strike, someone reached past his shoulder and grabbed Yagan's fist, stopping the punch. A shadow fell overhead, and he looked up, finding a purple umbrella blocking the sun.

"Kamui," Yagan growled.

"It's not nice to steal someone else's prey," Kamui said, smiling. Something fleeted across his face, and the pitch of his voice dropped. "Back off. He's mine."

Yagan yanked his hand out of Kamui's grasp, trying not to wince, but the red marks on his hand reflected nothing but pain. His nostrils flared, and he glared at Takasugi, his expression seething with poison as he slowly backed away. The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he wanted to say something, but he only threw Kamui a dirty glance before he turned and stalked off.

Once Yagan was out of sight, Takasugi looked over his shoulder, suddenly becoming aware of how close Kamui was standing. Their eyes met, and an odd weight settled on his chest when he realized the warmth on his back wasn't from the sun but a person.

"I don't really get it," said Kamui, holding Takasugi's gaze. "But I'm assuming you have a very good reason for not fighting back, otherwise I'm gonna be disappointed."

Letting out a small, bitter laugh, Takasugi looked away and said, "It's just an empty promise, nothing more." Just empty words to a person and a grave. He stepped to the side to face Kamui and continued, feeling the coolness on his back, "You went to Harusame High before you transferred to Yato High."

"Yeah," Kamui said with a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

"Did you also attend Harusame Middle School?"

"For a bit. Why are you asking?"

Takasugi paused when he heard Kamui's response. "Were you there four years ago?" he asked, furrowing his brows.

Kamui tilted his head while his gaze drifted to the sky, absorbed and distant. "No," he said simply and smiled at Takasugi. "What happened at the school four years ago?"

Except for a faint trace of curiosity, Kamui's expression was unreadable. A thousand new questions popped into Takasugi's head as he tried to find a crack in the smiling facade, but he knew that any answer he received now would lead to the same dead end. He looked away and said, "Never mind. I'm done here." He walked past Kamui, unable to shake off the unease and the lingering warmth on his back.

-x-

(TBC)


	4. what might have been

**03. what might have been**

-x-

_Love is a debt. When the bill comes, you pay in grief._

Who said that?

If that was the nature of love, what did that make cemeteries?

Takasugi paused at the turn of the stone path and glanced at the figure standing in front of a tombstone near the other end of the row. It was an annual encounter that had started before they knew each other as classmates, like two strangers entering a coffee shop and recognizing each other as the one they'd see on the bus every day. She was alone this year, and Takasugi realized why it'd struck him the other day to find out she had a brother - he'd only seen her with her father before and never with another person.

As if sensing his presence, Kagura tilted her purple umbrella and looked in his direction. Their eyes met briefly, until he noticed the fresh chrysanthemums sitting on top of Shoyo-sensei's grave. Last year, it had been peonies, and the year before, lilies. His stomach churned, and he stepped up to the tombstone, torn between the comfort of knowing there was someone who still remembered Shoyo-sensei and the unease of not knowing who that person was.

The flowers drooped in the summer heat, and a sparrow landed next to the censer, its beak hanging open as if in protest of the heat emanating from the pavement. It flew away at the sound of approaching footsteps, and Takasugi looked up in response. Kagura stopped before him and smiled.

"Y'know," she said. "It's kinda funny how we've never had the chance to talk."

"You always come here with your father."

Kagura let out a sheepish laugh. "Yeah," she said and tossed a glance at the grave she'd been visiting. "Papi's busy with school stuff this year, so he couldn't make it." Her voice lowered. "He's always like that. Mami's probably used to it." She fixed her gaze on the headstone in front of them and asked, "And you? Is this your family?"

Taking in the name carved into the marble, Takasugi replied, "Yeah." Everyone had their own definition of family and home, and if Kagura wondered about the last name, she didn't say anything.

"He passed away on the same day as Mami," Kagura observed, and Takasugi blinked. "I guess that makes sense. I just didn't think - " She paused. "Weird, how the world works sometimes."

"How did your mother die?" Takasugi asked, frowning. Thousands of people died each day, and coincidences were sometimes just that - coincidences, but he had nothing else to follow, to lead him to the real murderer. Grasping at straws was better than walking away.

A sad smile appeared on Kagura's face. "She was sick," she said simply.

The air stood still, hot and humid, while the cicadas droned. _And sometimes, coincidences are just that - coincidences._ The world was a small place. "Your brother never comes," Takasugi said.

"Oh, him." Kagura flashed a pained smile. "I never know what he's thinking. He skipped Mami's funeral. He disappears whenever we visit Mami. Papi thinks he's just being rebellious, but..." She shifted her umbrella, and a distant look settled over her face. "Papi also didn't see Nii-chan's expression when Mami died. I thought he was crying when the nurses pried Mami's hand out of his and pulled him away, but there was nothing on his face. It was completely blank. Sometimes I wonder if he's missing something in his brain." She looked at Takasugi. "Hey, this is gonna sound strange, especially since I don't know what's going on between you and Nii-chan, but if you see him today" - her voice cracked - "can you tell him to come home?"

Takasugi furrowed his brows. "What makes you think I'll see him today?"

Kagura looked away. "Or anyone, really. If anyone sees him."

_That's unlikely_, Takasugi wanted to say, but his cellphone rang before he could open his mouth. Scowling, he dug the phone out of his pocket and flipped it open to drop the call. He really needed to figure out how to put it on silent one of these days.

"Is that Zura?" Kagura asked, mildly amused.

Takasugi gave her an odd look and stared at the phone in his hand.

Kagura grinned. "He was going on and on about how you always ignore his calls the other day," she explained. "You should answer his call. I think he's worried about you." She clapped him on his shoulder. "Don't be a stranger when you come back to class, okay? I'm really glad I talked to you today. Too bad we missed Ginpachi-sensei."

Takasugi's gaze fell onto the chrysanthemums. "He was here?"

"Yeah. He was already leaving when I arrived, though, so we didn't really chat." Kagura swept her gaze across the cemetery. "Everyone's lost someone, huh?" She smiled, as if trying to reassure the two of them. "Don't forget to call Zura," she shouted as she headed toward the gate. "And I'll see you at school!"

Takasugi could feel a corner of his mouth tugging upward into a bittersweet smile, but it faded away when he glanced at the yellow chrysanthemums. It bothered him to think that the flowers each year were from Sakata Ginpachi, and it bothered him even more to think that he was not okay with it. Suppressing a sigh, he brought up the contact list on his phone, scrolled down to "Zura," and pushed the call button.

-x-

"Takasugi, you finally called me back! Why were you ignoring my calls? Do you know how worried I was? Did you get my voice messages? I also sent you text messages. Did you get those? I even stopped by your apartment after school, but you weren't there. Where have you been? You're on suspension. You didn't go out and cause more trouble, did you? Because - "

"Zura," Takasugi interrupted.

"It's not Zura, it's Katsura. Do you know how hard Ginpachi-sensei is working to - "

"Why did you call me?"

"What?"

"Why did you call me?" Takasugi repeated.

"I explained - oh no, my messages got lost after all. You really can't trust technology these days - "

"I got them," Takasugi snapped. "I just didn't look at them."

"You got them," Katsura echoed in disbelief. "Well why didn't you look at them? If you had - "

"Just tell me why you called me."

There was a pause, then Katsura said in a quiet voice, "I wanted to ask you if you've already made plans for Obon."

Takasugi tightened his grip on his phone and looked at the sky, cloudless but hazy.

"I know you always say no," Katsura continued. "But if you don't have plans yet, I really wish you would come to the festival with us this year. I even asked our classmates to join us, so it won't just be me and Elizabeth this time. Matako-dono said she'll come if you come and - "

"I'll pass," Takasugi said.

"Again?" Katsura said after a beat. When Takasugi didn't respond, he asked, "May I ask why?"

Takasugi wiped the sweat from his nose with the back of his wrist and replied, "Because I don't feel like it."

The silence on the other end dragged, and Katsura's voice was crestfallen when he spoke again. "Don't feel like going to Obon or don't feel like coming with us?"

Takasugi remained silent as he thought back to the loud festival and the floating lanterns. The last time they went to Obon together was four years ago, right after Shoyo-sensei's death. It used to be a tradition, when they were still at the orphanage and after they were adopted, to go to the festival together, to stuff their faces with greasy food, and to send paper lanterns down the river for their parents. But then one day, he had an extra lantern to light, and he couldn't do it anymore.

"Somehow I feel like we're drifting farther and farther apart," Katsura was saying. "I was so happy when I found out we were going to the same high school, and even happier when we ended up in the same class, but it seems like we're understanding each other less and less even though we see each other more often than before. I feel like we're living in worlds that look the same but are very different. How did this happen?"

Gritting his teeth, Takasugi lowered his hand and snapped the phone shut.

_Our bubbles met midair._

His left arm ached, and he inhaled a deep breath, slowly unclenching his fist.

_But one's floating upward while the other isn't. One's attracting more bubbles and growing bigger, and the other isn't._

Distance is subjective.

"That's all."

-x-

The wind was picking up when he left the cemetery, and he could see thick clouds gathering in the western sky, in the dark red sunset. The trees rustled above him as he cut through the park on his way home, but he paused when he caught sight of a familiar silhouette sitting on top of the playground slide and holding an umbrella.

Kamui noticed him at the same time and waved, smiling. "What are you doing here?" he asked, chewing on a popsicle stick. He was without his coat, the light-colored T-shirt making him seem younger than he actually was.

"That's my question," Takasugi said, walking up to the slide. "Your sister was looking for you."

Even in the twilight, the hesitation in Kamui's smile, however slight, was discernible. "Where did you see her?"

"Your sister wants you to go home," Takasugi said dryly. "I've relayed her message. See you later." He raised his arm and turned.

"Hey wait," Kamui called out, and Takasugi halted his footsteps. "Do you want to get dinner?" Kamui asked as he hopped off the slide. "I'm hungry."

-x-

(TBC)


	5. and what might come to be

**04. and what might come to be**

-x-

The light flickered on, and the front door closed with a click.

Kamui's voice came from the kitchen. "Your fridge is really pathetic."

Takasugi slammed the window in his room shut and replied, "My fridge is fine." He frowned at the puddle of water on the hardwood floor and strode back into the kitchen, stopping dead when he saw Kamui peering into the mini-fridge. "Oi," he said. "What are you doing? You just ate enough food to feed ten people."

"There is nothing in your fridge," said Kamui.

"Yes."

"There is nothing," Kamui repeated, "in your fridge."

Mildly annoyed, Takasugi glanced at the towel sitting on the far counter and said to Kamui, "Either move out of the way or pass me the towel."

"Why is there nothing in your fridge?"

"Will you shut up about that?" Takasugi snapped, contemplating the option of shoving the redhead aside, but he paused when Kamui reached over the purple umbrella open on the floor and grabbed the towel for him.

"If it weren't hailing outside," Kamui said as he handed Takasugi the towel and followed the latter out of the kitchen, "I'd drag you to the grocery store right now. How can you live without anything in your fridge?"

"How can _anyone_ live in this world?" Takasugi muttered and dropped the towel onto the wet floor, crouching down to wipe away the rain water.

"A wise man once said," Kamui continued as if Takasugi hadn't said anything, "All you need is good food and - " His voice cut off when another wave of rain and ice pounded against the window. "And more good food," he added, planting himself on the low window sill, back against the corner with one leg drawn up. "I can't believe there's nothing in your fridge."

Takasugi glanced up and caught the mock disdain in the blue eyes, knowing that Kamui might as well have turned up his nose and said, "I have misjudged you."

"You mean all _you_ need is food and more food," Takasugi retorted, returning to the kitchen to wring out the towel, still unable to decide whether he should lose or (almost) regain his already-lost faith in humanity. Somehow, for some reason, there existed a place on Earth, that wasn't also an all-you-can-eat buffet, where Kamui could inhale literally a ton of food for cheap. A friend's mother owned that place, or so he claimed. "I should call your sister so she can pick you up," Takasugi grumbled, ignoring the fact that it was an empty threat.

"You have her number?" Kamui asked, incredulous. "That's not fair. You don't have my number."

Takasugi could only gape at Kamui in response when he stepped out of the kitchen and into his room, mute from the sheer absurdity of the conversation. Finally, he said, "How would you know I don't have your number?"

Kamui smiled, a maddeningly familiar expression and markedly guarded. "I don't have a phone," he said simply, his unchanging smile feigning idiocy and swallowing unspoken words. Before Takasugi could react, he continued, "Say, are you investigating the death near Harusame Middle School four years ago?"

Takasugi paused, eyeing Kamui with a hint of distrust, his previous frustration forgotten. "I thought you didn't know anything about that."

"I didn't," Kamui replied. "But I asked around." His smile faded, but his gaze remained bright and curious. "Why are you looking into that?"

"What did you find out?"

"Very little," Kamui said, a corner of his mouth curving up into a disappointed smile. "Just the rumor that a gang dispute had resulted in a death, but it didn't sound like the person who died had anything to do with the school. Isn't the case closed? What does it have to do with you?"

_Everything_, Takasugi wanted to say. _Everything_.

Watching for slight changes in Kamui's expression, he said, "He's not someone who'd get caught up in a meaningless fight, especially not when he has - " Takasugi stopped when he realized he'd slipped into the present tense. He clenched his fists. "Something happened," he continued in a low voice. "Either the cops have no clue or they're covering up. I want to know who really killed him and why."

"So who was he?"

Takasugi tensed as memories flooded back, from the awkward first meeting with Shoyo-sensei to the quiet childhood he'd regained after the car accident. And then just like that, they were all gone again. Looking away, he sat down on the floor, next to the low table, and asked, "What's any of this to you?"

"You owe me a good fight," Kamui said. "And this is holding you back."

Takasugi fixed his eyes on Kamui, thoughts racing. No, this wasn't holding him back - it was driving him forward, however twisted the road was. He thought about the parents that he barely remembered and the adoptive parent that'd become everything to him. He thought about the peers that came and went and the person sitting in front of him. He thought about yesterday and today, then he said, "Your mother died on the same day."

There was a beat, and Kamui asked, his smile unwavering but strained, "Do you think the two deaths are related?"

"Your sister said your mother died of illness."

Another beat. His smile faded, but he held Takasugi's gaze, blue eyes bright and intense. At first, Takasugi attributed it to wariness, but when Kamui's expression suddenly closed, something hit home. Kamui hadn't been looking at him with resentment, but something like confused dependence.

Raindrops drummed against the window, and he glanced at the dark glass reflecting the objects in the room. Lights, a low table, a bed, a closet, books, and himself. He blinked, and the image went from foreign to familiar, like a piece of memory snapping back in place. Suppressing a sigh, he extended his arm to lower the curtain, and Kamui shifted to the floor in response. When their eyes met again, he found a faint smile on Kamui's face.

"You haven't answered my question," Kamui said. "Who was he?"

Takasugi paused for a moment before he remembered whom they had been talking about, and he bit back the urge to evade the question for a second time. "He took care of me after my parents died," he decided to say.

"When was that?" Kamui asked quietly.

A fleeting, bitter smile. "Too long ago," he replied.

Was he still counting? The days before the trip, the day of the crash, the days at the hospital, the months at the orphanage, the years with Shoyo-sensei, and the years after...

"What are you going to do after you find out who did it?"

Takasugi's jaw tightened. He'd thought about this. He'd thought about this a lot, even though a part of him, too small to make a difference, had already accepted the idea that some rocks were impossible to penetrate no matter how long the water had been dripping on it. Even so, he lived for the day that he could bash the murderer's head into concrete, maybe repeatedly - because fighting the world over the aftermath was easier, much easier, than dealing with the world as it stood right now.

"What do you think?"

Kamui smiled. "Fight me after you fight him."

Takasugi let out a soft laugh. "And what are you going to do after you lose?"

Kamui's smile widened into a grin. "I like that confidence," he said. "Now I'm really looking forward to it."

And suddenly, Takasugi felt like he was making another empty promise, one that came out of nowhere and had no purpose. As if he'd stopped on a winding path to admire the surroundings only to notice he had no idea where he was or how he got there. But he knew where he wanted to go, so maybe that was all that mattered. He looked at Kamui, at the smile that said nothing and everything, and wondered how much of their parallel paths were merely accidental and temporary.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Takasugi said, "It stopped hailing, and it's getting late. When are you heading home?"

Kamui's gaze drifted from Takasugi to the clock and then to the floor before it returned to Takasugi. "I can leave whenever. I hadn't expected I'd run into you at all today," he added after a pause, his smile almost stoic, almost grateful.

"That makes two of us," Takasugi murmured, furrowing his brows when Kamui's smile dropped ever so slightly and briefly that he nearly missed it. "Where do you live?" he asked all of the sudden, recalling the conversation with Kagura.

"Why? Do you want to walk me back?"

"I just have the feeling that you'll run off to somewhere obscure if I let you leave by yourself," Takasugi remarked dryly, ignoring the whisper in his head that was reminding him of what'd happened the last time someone had left the house to go somewhere in the rain. "Where would you have gone if we'd missed each other this evening?"

"I can go anywhere with an umbrella," Kamui responded, his distant smile bearing an odd resignation. "It always rains today, you know? It's funny."

"Stay," Takasugi said, staring at the floor between the two of them and listening to the rain. He didn't believe that the heavens were mourning, and he didn't believe that anything would happen either if Kamui had left then and there, but he knew that sometimes, they were just actors on a stage where they could choose different scripts on a whim. Go to dinner, or don't go to dinner. Tell him to come upstairs, or don't tell him to come upstairs. Ask him to stay, or don't ask him to stay.

A motion in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he looked up, holding his breath when Kamui peered into his face, too close.

"What happened to your left eye?" Kamui asked, eyes searching and no longer smiling.

"Car accident."

A pause. "Can I see?"

"There's nothing to see," Takasugi said, catching the hand reaching for his face. The two of them hesitated, but when Kamui leaned forward, Takasugi tugged the redhead toward him and released the hand in his grasp, unable to stop his heart from racing as they pressed their bodies together. Kamui was much easier to read, he realized, now that he could feel the redhead's arms around his shoulders and breath on his skin. A house of cards, he thought, tightening his arms around Kamui's waist. I see.

-x-

(TBC)


End file.
